No Time To Waste On Hate
by velja
Summary: Thomas Barrow isn't a nice person. He knows he doesn't deserve kindness, least of all from someone who has every reason to hate him. So when one of those someones - for there are many at Downton - pays him a visit while he's injured in bed, Thomas doesn't expect it to be a social call. And he's right, it isn't. Anna Bates has something to tell him. T/A, start of a friendship


**No Time To Waste On Hate**

_Thomas Barrow isn't a very nice character. But I've come to like him very much and I've always felt that all he needed was a friend. And I certainly don't mean Jimmy! No, who else would be better suited to show Thomas some kindness than the nicest character Downton Abbey has to offer?_

_This is a Thomas-centric story (no slash) that takes place immediately after the Christmas Special 2012. If you haven't seen it yet, be warned. You'll be spoiled. My first attempt at a Downton Abbey fic. Any mistakes are mine._

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It was a hesitant knock on his door that woke Thomas instantly. Distant grey light filled his room and Thomas knew that it had to be early morning still. He frowned and tried to sit up in bed; a task that had him wince slightly due to his still bruised ribs.

Someone knocked on his door for a second time, louder and more determined than before.

"Come in," Thomas called and brushed a hand through his hair to make it look more presentable. Being injured and bound to ones bed was by no means an excuse to look sloppy, not in Thomas' books. Even if it had to be only Jimmy at the door, his sole visitor in the past few days (apart from Mrs. Hughes once and some unimportant kitchen maid who'd brought him food three times a day).

None of the others had bothered to visit Thomas since he'd been beaten up at the Fair. Not that he'd expected anything else, mind you. Thomas knew exactly where he stood with almost every staff member of Downton.

So when the door finally opened and Anna Bates slowly entered his bedroom, Thomas was equally thrown and alarmed at once. Anna had accompanied Lady Mary and the rest of the Family to Scotland and he hadn't known they were back already. Nobody had bothered to tell him.

"What… what are you doing here?" Thomas knew he sounded harsh but he couldn't help it. Something must have happened, or she wouldn't be here. Anna was a proper Lady's Maid now and even though Thomas had never particularly cared for her one way or another he knew that she took her position seriously and would not risk it by paying a mere social visit to an invalided under-butler, least of all one she didn't even like.

"Mr. Barrow," Anna closed the door and took a few steps towards his bed. "I… How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Thomas brushed her off, his gaze travelling from her kind face to the closed door and back. He sat up straighter and his face contorted briefly in pain.

"So I see." An amused glint in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had come. Anna looked down at him in silence, clearly unsure of how to phrase whatever she'd come to say, and Thomas grew more and more uncomfortable with every second that passed.

Finally Thomas had had enough. One eyebrow raised obnoxiously he sneered: "A good Lady's Maid would know that it's not proper to enter a man's bedroom on her own, don't you think? What if Mr. Bates knew? Wouldn't want to give your husband reason to show his rather impulsive jealous side now, would you? Unless you want to end up like his first wife."

The gentle expression on Anna's face hardened considerably but she took a deep breath, turned around and pulled out a chair. Only when she'd sat down by his bed she answered: "I don't think Mr. Bates has any reason to be jealous. After all, he knows only too well that any woman would be quite safe in your company, at least from that kind of assault. Mr. Bates and everyone of us should better be worrying about the handsome footmen, am I not right, Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas had nothing to say to that, so he looked down at his hands in silence. Anna let out a quiet sigh. "I didn't come here to quarrel with you, Mr. Barrow."

"Then what do you want?" Thomas couldn't help but lash out. Of course he'd suspected that all staff knew about his… inclination. After the incident with Jimmy last year they'd have to know at the latest. And yet, having it thrown directly in your face in this manner, and from a kind soul like Anna… it hurt more than the cuts and bruises on his face ever could.

"Look," Anna sighed again. "I only came because I think no one's been up here to tell you. Not that I blame anyone, with all that's been going on since yesterday."

"I never pecked you for one to trade gossip," Thomas quipped with a smirk. "My, my…"

"Shut up," Anna cut in and Thomas' head shot up. He stared at her in shock and it was only then that he noticed the black stripe of cloth on her arm. All the colour drained from Thomas' face. Anna, he realized belatedly, was dressed in black from head to toe. She was in mourning!

"There's been an accident," Anna let out after a while.

"Who?" Thomas could manage nothing else. Was it Lady Mary? The baby? After what had happened to Lady Sybil last year, who could blame him for having such thoughts?

But Anna shook her head and looked down at her fidgeting hands in her lap. Her eyes welled up in tears, Thomas saw one roll down her cheek and fall onto her dress and he had to fight the sudden urge to take hold of her hands. Surely Anna wouldn't welcome his touch, even if it was meant to spend comfort. Nobody ever welcomed his touch, did they?

"Anna," Thomas urged her instead, "what happened? Who?" He noticed his voice quiver slightly but he didn't care.

"It's Mr. Crawley. Mr. Matthew. He…" Anna had to take a breath before she could continue: "He's dead. He was on his way here from the hospital when his car…"

"Why in God's name would he come from the hospital?" What a stupid thing to ask, Thomas realized immediately. What did it matter where Mr. Crawley had been and why? He was dead, for God's sake!

Anna seemed to think it a stupid question as well, for she stared incredulously at him for one second, only to break into a sniffled sob the next.

Thomas felt bad, his head reeling. Mr. Crawley, last rightful heir to Downton Abbey, dead. And what did that mean for all of them? Would now that dreadful game of musical chairs begin anew? That awful 'who's-next-in-line-for-the-throne' that they'd all hoped to be over once and for all? It would, wouldn't it? Unless…

"What about Lady Mary and the baby?" Thomas asked at last. "Where they with him?"

"No," Anna had composed herself enough to speak again. "Lady Mary had the baby early, the day before yesterday. She's at the hospital, that's why Mr. Crawley… that's where he'd come from when…"

"I see," Thomas nodded and slouched a bit down the headboard. He felt tired all of a sudden, tired and drained. And sad. And he hadn't even liked Mr. Crawley all that much. Well, he hadn't disliked him either, but… he'd never particularly warmed up to the idea of Mr. Crawley as the future Lord Grantham. "Well, looks like I won't have to now."

"Have to what now?"

Thomas hadn't realized that he'd spoken out loud. "Never you mind," he muttered, feeling rather ashamed of his train of thoughts.

"I should go," Anna announced and stood up in one swift movement. "There's so much to do."

Thomas watched her put the chair back to where it belonged and silently wondered if he should try and get dressed later. He knew Dr. Clarkson had ordered him to stay in bed for at least another two days but certainly, under these circumstances, he would be needed downstairs, wouldn't he? Surely he could manage to at least oversee some tasks, even if he wouldn't be able to serve at dinner with his broken ribs. Never mind that Mr. Carson wouldn't let him go near any room where his bruised and battered face would be seen. Standards had to be upheld at all times after all, especially in a house in mourning, and an under-butler with two black eyes and bloody cuts all over his face wasn't to be seen. It just wasn't done. And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Thomas happened to agree with Carson on that.

"I'll let you rest now, Mr. Barrow," Anna's soft voice pulled Thomas out of his thoughts at last.

"Shouldn't I…" Thomas made a poor attempt to swing one leg out of bed, and promptly winced in pain.

"I don't think that would be wise."

"But surely…" Thomas broke off and let out a gasp when fresh pain shot from his ribs into every fibre of his body. He fell backwards, head thumping against the headboard, and held his aching side.

"You're no use to anyone like this," Anna hurried over and, without ceremony, grabbed the leg that had been dangling over the edge. She helped Thomas lift it back onto the bed, her touch swift and sure, yet gentle and by no means hesitant or repulsed.

Thomas swallowed and watched Anna pull the covers straight. Then she gave him a soft smile.

"You better rest, Mr. Barrow. We will manage today without you."

"Of course you will," Thomas mumbled, thrown by the kindness shown to him. Kindness he didn't deserve, certainly not from her, he knew.

Anna gave him a final nod and then made for the door. When she'd almost slipped through Thomas called her back: "Ann… I mean, Mrs. Bates?"

"It's alright, Mr. Barrow." She'd stuck her head back inside. "It's been Anna for everyone for so many years now that it's hard to get used to the change. And I don't mind, really. Sometimes I think I'm still not used to being Mrs. Bates myself."

"Ugh, well," Thomas didn't know what to say to that.

"Anyway," again Anna gave him that kind smile that he'd never seen directed at him before. "Was there something else you need before I go down again?"

"No, I…" Thomas let out a confused sigh. "Why are you being kind to me?"

"I don't know." Now it was Anna's turn to sigh. She slipped back into his room and shook her head in annoyance. "I don't even want to be, not really."

"I see," Thomas, like usual, put on a haughty sneer to hide his true feelings behind. "Well, don't strain yourself on my account then. It's not as if I want your kindness anyway."

"You definitely don't deserve it, that's for sure." Somehow on a roll now Anna continued, determined to get it all out: "You're not a nice person, Mr. Barrow. Or if you are, then you certainly know how to hide it. And most of the time you leave other people no choice but to hate you."

"Good, mission accomplished then." Thomas held his head high. He wouldn't give her any reason not to believe her own words. They were true after all, weren't they? He wasn't a nice person, no one knew it better than he did.

"And yet," Anna eyed him closely for a while before she let out another sigh. "And yet, I find that I don't. I can't."

Seeing Thomas' confused frown Anna clarified: "I can't hate you, no matter how much I've tried. I simply don't have it in me to hate. Certainly not at times like these, when we've lost someone dear. It should remind us all to show kindness to the people around us, whether they deserve it or not. They're all we've got left. And, I feel, life is too short to waste even one minute of it on hating someone. I'm sure that my words must make me appear naïve or weak or whatever in your eyes, but I don't care."

When there was no reply coming from Thomas, only a silent stare, Anna turned around and opened the door once more.

"Anna," Thomas' voice stopped her on the threshold. She turned to him and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Thomas cleared his throat. "I… Thank you for letting me know. About Mr. Crawley. And…"

"Yes?"

"I don't think you naïve, or weak, or whatever. Not that my opinion should matter much, I'm quite sure it doesn't." He shrugged, "but I think you're strong. Strong in a way that I could never be. I wish I could but… I'm not."

"You'll never know, Mr. Barrow." Anna sent him a kind smile. "You'll never know if you don't try."

She slipped out of the room and closed the door. Thomas stared at where she'd been and whispered: "It's Thomas, if you want."

The door flew open again and Anna poked her head through the gap. "I want. _Thomas_."

With that she was gone for real this time, and so she didn't see the genuine smile slowly spread over Thomas' features. The cut on his upper lip strained and split anew but Thomas didn't care. He didn't even feel the pain.

**The End**

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_**Author's Note:** Curiously enough, this isn't the story I wanted to write. I had something completely different in mind when I started writing. But I guess this is the story that needed to be written first. Maybe I'll find the time and muse to write the other one as well. In the meantime, tell me what you think, please.  
_


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